


Better Than Revenge

by beautyqueenforbes



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: All Immortals Are Bisexual, Alternate Universe, Assassin!Caroline, Besties with Benefits!Katholine, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Heretic!Caroline, Hot Hybrid Sex (Vampire Diaries), Inappropriate Use of a Cafe, Klaroline in Paris, Nobody Likes Damon, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautyqueenforbes/pseuds/beautyqueenforbes
Summary: By day, Caroline is an unassuming cafe owner, but by night, she's a world-famous assassin, renowned for her unique set of skills as a heretic vampire. When an old enemy hires her to take out the Hybrid, Caroline can't resist the challenge of going toe-to-toe with such a powerful and elusive foe. But between the sheets, Caroline might just find that her mark has something more enticing to offer her.





	Better Than Revenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Writerwithagoal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerwithagoal/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day! This was a bit of a challenge, but a fun one to write nonetheless. I sincerely hope I was able to do your request justice!

Caroline surveyed the bustling café scene before her, one hand on her hip, the other brandishing a damp rag. She had a habit of stress cleaning, an activity in which she was currently partaking, as evidenced by the slick and soapy countertop she’d been in the middle of wiping down. And if ever there was an occasion for her to be stressed, this was certainly it.

After all, she was anticipating a meeting with one Damon Salvatore. Damon Salvatore, as in the handsy, womanizing, I’m-too-pretty-for-consequences-to-my-stupid-actions Damon Salvatore. He’d made her life a living hell, back before she was truly aware of just how powerful she was. A part of her still wanted to bring him to his knees, show him that he wasn’t quite as untouchable as he thought, and that she wasn’t weak, girly little Caroline anymore. She had blossomed into a force to be reckoned with. But deigning to enact revenge on Damon meant he was winning, that he left lasting scars that she couldn’t rise above, and Caroline refused to allow any of her time and energy to be diverted to someone so undeserving. Plus, his money was still good, and as far as Caroline was concerned, he owed her every cent a thousand times over.

The bell above the door jingled as it swung open, and Caroline inadvertently stiffened in response. Looking up, she was instantly soothed by the sight of her bestie with benefits striding through the door, all Italian leather and curls to die for. Katherine crossed the room without so much as sparing a glance to the other patrons and plucked a pastry from the display case to the left of the counter, grimacing at its sopping surface with disdain.

“Please tell me that you’ve just viciously murdered Damon and what you’re doing right now is cleaning up the evidence,” Katherine said, fixing Caroline with an expectant gaze.

With a huff, Caroline tossed the rag down on the counter and began wiping her hands off on her apron. “You know, you really didn’t have to come,” she said.

“And leave you alone with _Damon_? I’m insulted,” Katherine gasped, feigning her vexation. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a bad friend.”

“I really appreciate you being here, but I can handle him,” Caroline assured her.

“And you’re doing it in _that_?” Katherine retorted. Her displeased gaze shifted from the drying countertop to Caroline’s apron.

Caroline rolled her eyes. “I was going to change,” she defended.

“Well, you don’t have a lot of time.” Katherine titled her head in the direction of the clock on the wall. “Weren’t you meeting he-who-shall-not-be-named at ten?”

Panic set in as Caroline assessed the time. She only had ten minutes to clear out the café and change into a more suitable outfit for attending business in her other line of work.

“Could you cover for me, get this place cleared out? Please?” Caroline pled.

“Yeah, no problem,” Katherine responded nonchalantly, ever one to be cool and collected to Caroline’s frenzied state.

“Thanks, I owe you one.” Caroline deftly undid the ties of her apron and tossed it into a heap on top of the wet rag on the countertop, her kitten heels clicking on the tiled floor as she hurried out from behind the counter. Before she could turn down the cramped hallway leading to the stairwell that would take her to her studio apartment on the second floor, Katherine stopped her with a hand around her wrist.

“Hey,” Katherine said, showing off a softer side she exclusively reserved for Caroline. “If you want me to rip his throat out, the offer still stands.”

“Thanks, Katherine. I’ll keep that in mind,” Caroline responded, as Katherine leaned in and pressed a quick kiss, a promise of something later, to Caroline’s cheek before releasing her. Caroline dashed for the stairwell, sparing a glance back at the café. The wicked grin on Katherine’s face as she prepared to descend upon the unwitting customers was the last thing Caroline saw before heading upstairs.

As Caroline moved about her apartment, shedding her clothes as she went, the lights flickered overhead. Her magic tended to become unstable when she was stressed. It was one of the hazards of life as a heretic. The heightened emotions that came with vampirism clashed with the sense of controlled calm necessary to be a witch. It had been a disaster when she’d first been turned, as she’d had to learn of her heritage the hard way. She was no stranger to shattering glass and shorting out the lights. Oddly enough, Katherine had been the one to help her through it, in spite of the fact that she’d ultimately been the one to turn her, and they’d become close as a result. But Katherine wasn’t the ‘settling-down’ type, and Caroline wasn’t exactly looking for anything more than casual, and she certainly wasn’t willing to risk ruining their friendship.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline strained to focus her hearing on Katherine’s voice as she harassed the customers downstairs. She turned her attention back to the task at hand, opting to replace her current outfit with all-black attire, befitting the look of a world-renowned assassin.

Caroline hadn’t exactly intended to become a contract killer, but her unique sets of skills made her particularly suited to the line of work. She was faster, stronger, smarter, and blessed with the almost unfair advantage of magical abilities. Her victims were felled before they could even sense her presence. It was in college that she had started to play the vigilante, taking care of cheating boyfriends and quarterbacks who thought they were entitled to touch what wasn’t theirs. As her resume grew, so did her reputation, and soon she was sought by increasingly powerful beings to do what others could not, which turned out to be quite lucrative. And if she was being totally honest, it was a good means of stress relief.

Consequently, she ended up establishing her base of operations in Paris, using some of her profits to fund a passion project in the form of a Parisian café. She liked the atmosphere and interacting with the people, hearing their stories. It made her feel human again. And it didn’t hurt that nobody suspected the peppy and bright-eyed café owner of being a world-famous killer. It was the perfect front, and few people knew about the duality of her life.

Unfortunately, Damon Salvatore was one of them.

Caroline grimaced when she heard his voice announcing his presence over the trilling of the door’s bell.

Trudging downstairs to the now empty café, she found Katherine with her arms crossed, fixing a look to kill on Damon, whose response was an insufferable smirk.

“Nothing to say, Kitty Kat?” Damon taunted.

“Oh, plenty,” Katherine spat. “But I have better things than you to waste my breath on.”

“Well, I’m just dying to hear them.”

“I almost got my hopes up that you were just dying.”

Caroline cleared her throat, and Damon’s eyes shifted to her as he cheerfully and nauseatingly proclaimed, “Blondie!”

He grinned. “Just the heretic I was waiting for. Think you can call your guard dog off?”

Katherine scoffed. “If anyone’s the dog here, it’s you.” She strode towards the stairwell with a roll of her eyes. “Call me if you need me, Care. And Damon? Be useful for once in your life and give my love to Stefan, will you? That is, if he’s still speaking with you these days.” And with that she disappeared.

“You need to get better friends, Blondie.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t know, considering you don’t have friends.” Caroline deadpanned, crossing her arms defensively. “What is it you want, Damon?”

“Is that any way to treat a paying customer?” He plucked a pastry from the display case, popping it into his mouth unceremoniously.

“I hope you were planning on paying for that.”

Damon shrugged. “I’ll add it to my tab.” He reached into his leather jacket, materializing a check from an inside pocket. “Is it the usual fee?”

“Depends on the job.”

“He goes by ‘The Hybrid’. Scary ass, real homicidal maniac. Takes one to know one, I guess.” Damon paused for a moment, seemingly disappointed when Caroline didn’t indulge him with a laugh. “He’s taken out entire towns single-handedly, and he’s pretty much untouchable.”

“Why ‘The Hybrid’?” Caroline inquired.

“I’d heard legends, but nobody thought it was for real. Half-vampire, half-werewolf. Guess you two have something in common, huh, Blondie?”

“Don’t call me that,” Caroline bristled.

“Whatever, Blondie. Anyway, aren’t you going to ask why nobody’s been able to take this guy out?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Unperturbed by Caroline’s disinterest, Damon continued on. “He’s not just ‘The Hybrid’, he’s an _Original vampire_. Nothing can kill him but white oak, which is pretty much impossible to find after he all but wiped it off the face of the Earth. But lucky for you, I’ve got some right here.” He reached back into his jacket pocket, pulling out a long, thick stake in a pale silvery white with silver metalwork around the top. He handed it to Caroline, who took it carefully so as not to risk any skin-to-skin contact. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.” At that, Caroline’s blood boiled, but she bit her tongue.

“So why do _you_ want him dead?” she asked instead.

“He killed a drinking buddy of mine, and I want revenge,” he responded nonchalantly. “I would do it myself, but I heard this guy prefers blondes.” His eyes widened then, as if he had forgotten something, and he suddenly reached into his pocket for his phone. A few moments later, he brandished a grainy black-and-white photo of ‘The Hybrid’ on his screen.

“I’ll send it to you,” he offered.

“Don’t,” Caroline stopped him. “I really don’t feel like changing my number again.”

Damon shrugged. “Suit yourself, Blondie.”

With a sigh, Caroline turned away from him. She’d had about all the Damon exposure she could take. “If this ‘Hybrid’ is as dangerous as you say, I want double.”

“Not a problem.” Damon grabbed a pen off the top of the pastry display case and began filling out the blank check. When he was finished, he pulled out his wallet and set a hundred-dollar bill on top before handing both to Caroline.

“For the snack,” he explained.

“Pleasure doing business with you, as always, Blondie,” he added, before stalking towards the door.

Caroline released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding at the sight of his retreating form, but her relief was short-lived.

“You ever going to get over it, Blondie?” he asked, turning back to face her.

She knew instantly what he was referring to, and she had to reign in the white-hot flood of anger that threatened to boil over. The overhead lights dimmed as her restraint slipped before snapping back in to place. “That depends on if you ever learn that there are consequences to your actions, Damon,” Caroline retorted in a saccharinely sweet voice.

“You should be thanking me,” he fumed. “You can tell yourself all you want that it was Katherine who turned you, but it was my blood in your system. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be the same stupid, shallow small-town girl you were before I gave your life meaning.”

“Which part, exactly, should I be thanking you for?” Caroline snapped. “The part where you fed off of me? Erased my memories? Compelled me into your bed?”

“Yeah? If I’m so bad, why haven’t you killed me yet? You wanted it and you know—” he began, but his words were cut off into choked sputters as Caroline raised her hand and he fell to his knees, desperately clutching at his throat.

The magic flowed through Caroline like a live pulse, crackling and writhing with energy. She could feel everything around her all at once, from the magnetic pull of the earth beneath her feet to the ebb and flow of the oblivious city street just outside. “You don’t know the first thing about what I want, not now or back then. You don’t know anything about what anybody wants, because the only thing you care about is _Damon_. I feel sorry for you, actually. You’re a child who won’t ever truly be close to anyone because you just don’t learn. Somebody’s going to teach you that lesson someday, and nobody will be there to pick you back up afterwards, because you don’t deserve it. Not even Elena, because someday, she’ll realize she’s too good for you, and that you don’t actually care about her, even if you tell yourself you do. And when that happens, maybe you’ll finally deserve to die.”

Caroline dropped her hand, the tension flowing out of her muscles like a released rubber band. Damon knelt before her, coughing as the air rushed back into his lungs.

“If you even think about not paying me, I’ll give Elena a call and fill her in on who you really are,” Caroline warned. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do.”

With a flex of her hand, sunlight flooded the room as the door flung open, a fierce gust of wind dragging Damon out onto the sidewalk. On all fours, he stared at her incredulously from beyond the threshold before the door slammed shut in his face, the blinds falling down from the impact to obscure him from view. The lock clicked into place.

Caroline waited a few moments for the sound of his retreating footsteps outside, and then she headed upstairs, feeling utterly spent.

Several hours and a few phone calls later, and with Katherine’s help, Caroline strode into an art gallery feeling fully rejuvenated from the expended use of her magic, having been tipped off about the Hybrid’s whereabouts for the evening.

The gallery was almost devoid of any life, save for a handful of staff milling about, as Caroline had chosen to arrive early in hopes of catching the Hybrid alone. The less witnesses she had to compel afterwards, the better.

The space was elegant in crisp white with splashes of blood red décor, a litany of expertly executed paintings occupying the open space. Nearby a tower of champagne flutes loomed beside a long table of tasteful cheeses and miniature desserts.

Caroline’s eye was drawn to one painting in particular, a hummingbird in brilliant jewel tones against a stark background of greys varying in intensity. As she stepped closer to examine the name placard beside it, an employee donning a refined vest and slacks approached her.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but you can’t be in here until the event has officially started,” the young woman politely informed her.

Caroline plastered on a glowing smile and turned to face the woman, ready to respond with a prepared lie. And if a last resort were needed, she wasn’t above compulsion. But before she could get the words out, a sultry accented voice cut in.

“It’s quite alright, love. I invited her here early myself.”

Caroline stopped herself before she could react to the blatant lie, instead choosing to reinforce the man’s words with a placating smile.

The woman smiled at him with a strange mixture of admiration and fear. “Of course, Mr. Mikaelson,” she conceded courteously. “Should we be expecting any other early visitors?”

“No,” he responded, giving her a dimpled smile that the woman looked inclined to swoon over.

Instantly, Caroline recognized him from Damon’s blurry photo. The Hybrid stood before her, looking far more irresistible than he had any right to. As he saw the employee off, Caroline stole a glance back at the placard beside the painting to find that it belonged to a Klaus Mikaelson, as in Mr. Mikaelson. Her interest piqued as she realized the Hybrid was the artist behind the exhibit.

Klaus returned to her with his hands clasped behind his back and a smile that made Caroline weak in the knees. Her thoughts were instantaneously addled with lust, almost eclipsing the warning bells that chimed in her mind. _Set-up_ , they whispered.

“Are you a fan of the arts?” he asked, breaking Caroline from her reverie.

“Something like that,” she answered coolly.

“And what do you think of this piece?”

Caroline studied it for a moment longer. “It’s stunning. But there’s something sad about it. It’s so breathtaking, but…lonely,” she mused.

He hummed in response, studying his own work for a moment. “That’s rather perceptive of you, sweetheart. It’s one of my favorites, personally, but I dare say that you would make a far lovelier muse.”

Caroline couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Has that line worked for you yet?”

He laughed, an incredulous grin gracing his features. Caroline thought for a moment that she could almost get lost in those dimples. “I don’t believe I caught your name, sweetheart,” he said.

“And what’s next, you ask me for my number?”

Another laugh, and he stepped closer to where his breath teased the shell of her ear, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. “I don’t mean anything untoward, love; it’s just…I like to get to know someone when they’re sent to kill me.”

Caroline’s blood ran cold, but she quickly masked her slipping composure with a smile, stepping around Klaus to pluck a glass from the nearby table of champagne.

“So, you’re the artist?” she probed, buying herself time.

“That I am, love,” he answered, smiling in a way that almost concealed the predatory glint in his eyes. “Why do you ask? Generally, my enemies don’t take the time to make conversation before they attempt to kill me.”

After a long sip of champagne, Caroline smiled covertly, as if she were about to divulge a secret. “I like to get to know the person I’m supposed to kill before…well, you know.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

They gazed at one another for what felt like an eternity, the tension between them palpable. Then, the glass in Caroline’s hand shattered, and she lunged forward to dig a large shard into his abdomen. Klaus doubled over, hissing in pain, and Caroline took the opportunity of his incapacitation to hike up the side of her dress and retrieve the white oak stake strapped to her thigh. Just as she was about to deliver the deadly blow, Klaus’ hand snaked out and twisted her wrist until the joint responded with an infuriated crack.

The pain forced a gasp from Caroline, and she used her uninjured hand to grope blindly at him until she found skin. Her palm began to glow red with heat, and steam rose from Klaus’ skin at the points of contact as she singed his flesh with her magic. With a growl, he released her.

They stood apart from one another, but close enough that it would take very little effort to reach out and touch. In fact, they could feel each other’s body heat, heightened from the exertion. Klaus and Caroline watched each other carefully, both waiting for the other’s next move. Without taking his eyes from her, Klaus reached down to soothe the area on his forearm where she had burned him.

“No hard feelings?” Caroline offered, her breathing labored.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere quieter, love?” Klaus proposed. He nodded towards the small cluster of staff members gathered in the corner, watching the two of them curiously. Caroline wasn’t sure if it was just the adrenaline twisting her perception, but his words sounded an awful lot like they had a veiled meaning, and she found herself staring at his lips as she answered.

“After you.”

He responded with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and turned, gesturing for her to follow. It wasn’t that she fancied a one-on-one in enclosed quarters with the Hybrid, but from a moral standpoint, Caroline preferred to get as few bystanders as possible involved, something that had begun to seem impossible under the watchful eyes of the art gallery’s staff.

Klaus led her down a small corridor to a set of imposing glass doors that opened out onto a small garden fenced in by neatly trimmed hedges, centered around a bubbling statuesque marble fountain. He held the door for her, but eventually caved and went outside first when Caroline refused to budge. She wasn’t willing to risk exposing her back to him.

As soon as the cool night air settled around them, before Klaus had time to turn and face her, Caroline had unsheathed the white oak stake, driving it towards his shoulder. He was faster than her, and had somehow anticipated her action, catching her by the wrist before she could deliver the blow.

Caroline didn’t back down, though, holding her stance. She could feel his raw strength pushing back against her own.

“Who sent you?” Klaus finally broke the oppressive silence.

“Why do you think someone sent me?” Caroline bit back. “You don’t think I could have a reason for wanting you dead?”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I would have remembered an enemy as lovely as you. Where did you get the white oak?”

Caroline shrugged, as much as she could in her current position. “Maybe I’m into gardening.”

Klaus opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, his attention was caught by something else. Caroline heard it, too; inside the art gallery, she could just make out the low murmur of polite conversation and the click of heels. Her time had run out, as guests were arriving to the gallery for the night’s event. It was now or never.

Steeling herself, Caroline directed every bit of her strength into the hand gripping the white oak stake, and she pushed. Klaus’ eyes widened in surprise as his attention returned to her, finding Caroline forcing the stake towards his chest in spite of his hold against her through sheer force of will. The tip came dangerously close to his shoulder, tearing into the fabric of his shirt.

His other hand shot out, and in an imperceptible motion, he snapped her nearly-healed wrist with ease. Caroline cried out, releasing the stake, and it fell to the ground between them.

Before she had a chance to move, Klaus had already descended on the stake, and stood with it leveled at her chest.

Caroline couldn’t tear her focus from the weapon aimed at her, cradling her injured wrist in her other hand as the bone began to reform. She frantically racked her thoughts for a way out. The job had been botched, and Caroline could recognize when she’d been beaten.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Caroline asked, buying herself more time to think.

“Luckily for you, until I know who sent you, you’re worth far more to me alive than dead, sweetheart,” he said, taking a step closer. Caroline refused to step back, to show fear. “If you come quietly, I may be persuaded to show mercy.”

“Sorry, not interested,” she responded. At that moment, the fountain in the middle of the gardens burst. Plumes of water shot out at Caroline’s command, drenching the both of them. Through the din, she could hear Klaus curse, but she didn’t stick around to make sense of his muddled words. Taking advantage of her heightened speed, before Klaus had the opportunity to gain his bearings, Caroline had disappeared into the night.

A cab ride and a short while later, Caroline collapsed into bed, only pausing to first take her heels off. Tonight had been far too close for her liking. To make matters worse, she had lost the white oak stake, which complicated things. But Caroline wasn’t a quitter, and she certainly wasn’t going to give Damon Salvatore of all people the satisfaction of her failure. She would just have to find another way, but first, Caroline was in desperate need of rest.

She managed to muster the energy to change into something more comfortable, but she lacked the stamina for little else. When Caroline woke from a deep, dreamless sleep some time later, she realized she had been so exhausted that she couldn’t recall having actually gotten back into bed.

Her eyelids heavy, Caroline began to drift back off to sleep when a noise caught her attention. It must’ve been what had woken her up in the first place: a soft, almost imperceptible crunching sound. Straining to try and hear anything else to identify the source, Caroline realized that what she was hearing sounded suspiciously like someone walking on broken glass. Before she had time to think about what she was doing, Caroline had thrown her covers aside and was headed downstairs, taking two steps at a time.

The café space was dark and eerily empty, save for a looming shadow waiting by the door, almost obscuring the fist-sized hole in the glass pane. Caroline only fumbled for the light switch for a moment before fluorescent light flooded the room, exposing her late-night visitor.

She was met with Klaus Mikaelson standing before her, looking even better than he had before, having traded in his suit for a casual henley. Caroline’s blood ran cold when she saw that he held the white oak stake. He gazed at her with obvious amusement, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

He strode toward the counter, plucking a business card from the neat stack Caroline kept by the register and flipping it over to study it. “Caroline Forbes,” he read aloud. Her name on his lips sounded better than it had any right to. “You’re a difficult woman to find. But fortunately, not impossible.”

Klaus waited a beat for her to say something, anything, but words were a prospect Caroline currently found daunting while her thoughts raced at a mile a minute. With a sigh, he took a step towards her, only for Caroline to take a step back. “I believe you forgot something, love,” he teased, waving the white oak stake in her direction.

Klaus took another step, as if he intended on offering it to her. Fight or flight instinct bled into Caroline with blinding intensity, and she chose flight. Had she been of sound mind, Caroline might’ve tried to incapacitate him before running, but instead she burst toward the door with every ounce of speed she could muster. She was across the room in a blur, and once again, she found herself thankful for her heightened speed. Her power flared and she willed the lock to click open, arriving just after the golden knob twisted to the side. The door flung open without her touching it, and she was almost out onto the quiet Paris city street when she was yanked back into the café by a bruising grip on her arm.

Cool air rushed over Caroline as she was flung through the air, landing on the counter with a force that would’ve snapped a human’s spine. It was enough to knock the wind out of her, though, and Caroline gasped for air as Klaus closed in on her, pressing the point of the stake to her throat.

Instinctively, both of Caroline’s hands came up to grasp the stake, trying to keep the sharpened point from breaking skin.

“I didn’t come here to fight you, love,” Klaus said, his tone almost soothing, as if he were addressing a wild animal he believed he could tame. “In fact, I came here to make you an offer.”

“I’m off the clock,” Caroline gasped out, clawing at the stake to no avail.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve encountered a heretic,” Klaus continued, unfazed by her smart mouth. His eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I want you.”

“You can’t afford me,” Caroline hissed, trying to smother the parts of her mind that were convinced he wanted her a different way. The proximity was driving her practically insane.

“Name your price. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Gold, jewels, fortunes, fine art…”

The businesswoman in Caroline perked up at that. “What do you want from me in return?”

“For starters, I’d like a name,” Klaus said. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small, glittering diamond, holding it up so that she could see it in the light. It looked legitimate enough, though Caroline certainly couldn’t attest to being an expert in precious gems. “I want to know who you’re working for.”

He placed the gem beside her on the counter, and slowly, he began to let up on the pressure of the stake to her throat. “A sign of good faith,” he said, his tone laced with warning.

Klaus stepped back just enough to give Caroline room to sit up, and as she did, she plucked the diamond from her side to examine it more closely. It had some heft to it, and it fit neatly in her palm. If she had to guess, it was worth far more than the check Damon had left for her.

Then again, it would be quite the payday if she had the diamond _and_ Damon’s money. She smiled coyly, turning the gem over in her hand, as if she were considering it.

“No deal.”

Caroline took advantage of the lapse in Klaus’ defensive stance and grabbed him by the wrist, wrenching the stake from his grip. Before he had time to react, she had flipped him around and pinned him to the countertop, stake poised over his heart.

But Klaus didn’t seem perturbed by the situation at all, gazing up at her in a way that Caroline could’ve sworn looked almost…hungry.

They stayed there for a moment, Caroline hovering over Klaus with the intent to kill. But for some reason, her hand didn’t budge. She suddenly no longer had a taste for doing Damon’s dirty work.

“Whatever I want?” she asked, faltering.

“Everything you want,” he responded.

And then, for some inexplicable reason, Caroline kissed him.

The stake fell from her grip, and her lips met his.

It was dizzying, the way his mouth moved perfectly with hers, the way his hands roamed her skin like he was memorizing her curves. With ease, Klaus flipped them over so that Caroline was beneath him, his touch traveling to her hips and then sliding back up underneath the loose fabric of her sleep shirt.

Caroline reached to remove it, never breaking the contact of their lips, but before she could, Klaus tore it straight down the middle. The ruined fabric hung limply at her sides, her bare breasts exposed to his gaze.

“I liked that shirt,” she complained as Klaus moved to tease the sensitive skin of her throat before moving downwards.

“I’ll get you another,” he promised. He dipped down to take a nipple into his mouth, teasing the sensitive bud with his tongue. He pinched the other between his fingers, lightly massaging, and Caroline arched her hips up off the counter.

“Wait,” she gasped, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him before he moved to graze his teeth along her other nipple. He looked up at her curiously, his eyes clouded with lust. “This…is in serious violation…of the health code…”

At that moment, there was nothing Klaus could have cared less about than the bloody health code, but he bit his tongue.

“My bedroom’s…upstairs…” Caroline informed him.

He didn’t respond, instead lifting her up off the counter and into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Suddenly he was kissing her again, the movement of his lips against hers almost bruising in the most delightfully delirious way.

Caroline was almost too distracted by the way his tongue moved with hers to notice the whoosh of air as he took her upstairs. The apartment was dark, but somehow, Klaus seemed to know his way, finding the bedroom with ease. They didn’t break apart the entirety of the way there, and only now did they separate for Klaus to lay Caroline on the bed. For a second longer, his lips found hers again, and then he moved to slide her shorts down her legs, taking her panties along with them.

Caroline shivered, unsure if it was from the cold or the intensity of his gaze on her bare body. Or maybe it was just the strain of trying to silence the little voice in her head that said this was absolutely insane of her.

Her worries vanished the instant Klaus eased her legs apart, rubbing her inner thighs dangerously close to where she wanted him most. She was just about to point out that he was wearing entirely too many clothes when he knelt at the end of her bed, pulling her forward.

Before she had the opportunity to speak, Klaus dove between her legs, his tongue flicking over her clit. Caroline gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily, as if she were trying to get even closer to him. He delved into her folds, his tongue beyond heavenly. Caroline couldn’t have thought of anything other than the feeling of him between her legs even if she had tried.

He traced circles around her clit, driving her almost mad with the desire for direct content, before traveling lower to tease her entrance, dipping inside. Caroline let him guide her leg to rest on his shoulder, her pussy throbbing as he explored new angles.

Klaus returned to her clit, keeping her writhing form anchored down with one hand on her hip as he slid two fingers inside of her with the other. The feeling of him moving inside her as his tongue laved her clit was enough to take her over the edge she was teetering on. Caroline’s orgasm was blinding, and she wasn’t sure if she screamed his name or something else entirely. It didn’t really matter to her as Klaus continued to suck on her clit as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. He didn’t stop until she was licked clean, even as she came down from her high.

“Caroline,” he groaned reverently, standing up and leaning over her to claim her lips again. She could taste herself in his kiss and the sensation only added to the pleasure-induced haze in her mind. Caroline clawed at his shirt as his fangs grazed her lower lip, and then her neck, before Klaus stepped back and removed it for her. She watched as he undid the zipper of his pants, kicking off his shoes and then sliding both his jeans and his boxers down his legs until they pooled around his feet on the floor.

Caroline swallowed at the sight of him completely naked, drinking it in. Her gaze raked over each of his tattoos, over the lean lines of his abdomen, and settled on his impressive cock. Klaus closed the small distance between them, and their eyes locked. She nodded, assenting to his silent question.

“I want you,” she whispered, tracing the shape of a bird near his collarbone as he spread her legs once more, his cock teasing her entrance.

“You’re mine,” he responded, before pushing inside of her with a sharp thrust.

Caroline moaned at the sensation of him filling her, and he gave her a moment to adjust to his size before moving. Caroline’s hips met his with each thrust. Every time he grazed the sweet spot inside her, Caroline cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. She was grateful to be laying down, as she doubted her legs could hold her at this point.

Klaus slid his hand between them, rubbing her swollen clit in time with his thrusts. He could tell by the way she cried out and how her walls fluttered around him that he was getting close, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

His thrusts became faster and more erratic as they both neared the edge. Acting purely on instinct, Klaus sank his fangs into her neck, the taste of her blood on his tongue almost orgasmic itself.

The initial shock and pain of him biting her dissipated into pure bliss, and it was enough to bring Caroline her second orgasm of the night. She came harder than the first time, leaving deep scratches in his shoulders as she sought an anchor against the tidal wave of pleasure. Klaus didn’t falter though, and just as Caroline started to come back to Earth, her walls squeezed around him and sent Klaus over the edge. Her thighs trembled as she enjoyed the feeling of him emptying inside of her.

She almost whined at the empty feeling as he pulled out of her, but her distress was short-lived as he fell beside her on the bed, offering her his wrist.

“Drink, Caroline,” he urged her, and she was happy to oblige.

The sensation of sharing his blood alongside the aftershocks of her orgasm left Caroline in a heady cloud of bliss. Once she drank her fill, blood smeared on her lips, Caroline released Klaus’ wrist and took a moment to catch her breath before speaking.

“It was Damon Salvatore,” she gasped.

“What?”

She sat up a little, turning to face Klaus more fully. “Damon Salvatore was the one who hired me to kill you,” she informed him breathlessly.

A wicked smile graced Klaus’ lips, and the predatory look in his eyes ignited a need in Caroline she had thought sated. “It seems I owe the Salvatore brothers a visit, then. You should come with me, Caroline.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” she answered with a suggestive smile. Caroline rested her leg between his, moving ever closer. “But first, I can think of a few things to do that are much, much better than revenge.”


End file.
